Improper English by Katie MacAlister Page B

cry,” I chanted to myself as I went to the tiny kitchen sink to run cold water. I had just stuck my head under when someone knocked on my door.
    “Doesn’t know how to take a no,” I growled to myself as I stomped over to the door. I flung it open, snapping, “What?” before I could see who stood there.
    It was Isabella. Her bright blue gaze rested for a moment on the water dripping down from the back of my head, then moved to take in the accompanying wetness on my cheeks. She reached out one elegant finger and touched the trail of a tear.
    I stepped back as if she had burned me.
    “I thought you might like to know that Alexander and I are no longer lovers.”
    I blinked at her, not understanding. Not lovers? “Since when? Ten seconds ago? Not good enough for me.”
    She smiled faintly. “Our affair has been over for more than two years.”
    “Oh.” I blinked again, suddenly realizing what she was saying. Joy welled up inside me, making me want to sing and shout and dance a victory dance. “Oh! You mean, there’s hope for Alex and me?”
    Her smiled faded as she sadly shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think so, no.”
    The wellspring of joy shriveled and dried up into a hard, painful knob in my stomach. “Oh, right, becauseI called him a bastard. You don’t think he would understand why I said it? That I thought he was trying to get a bit of nooky on the side?”
    She shook her head again. “It’s not that. Alexander has never been a man to seek shallow relationships. I’m afraid if that is all you are looking for, he won’t wish to become involved, no matter how much he might otherwise desire it.”
    “Gee, thanks for not holding back on me, Isabella,” I managed to get out despite the pain at her words. I would have said more, something to hurt her as she had hurt me, but deep down inside I knew I didn’t have a leg to stand on. Shallow, cheap, easy—I’d heard all of those words before, but I had hoped to be past all that. It looked like my usual run of luck was following me here, too. I swallowed hard and rallied a smile.
    She smiled back, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again and just gave my arm a squeeze instead. “I didn’t intend on hurting your feelings, Alix, but I like you and Alexander too well to see you unhappy with each other.”
    I nodded. There was nothing else to say.
    “I enjoyed the dancing. Thank you for the music.”
    I nodded again, watching her walk up the stairs to the floor above, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. I turned back to survey the sanctuary of my flat, but found there wasn’t a whole lot to be seen through tears.

Chapter Five
    Rowena waited in an adjoining room for the opinion of the mysterious Spanish surgeon, Sabatino. The veil had been torn from her heart, and she saw, for the first time since the phantom had made its unholy appearance in the ruins of the abbey, its true emotions. She loved Thomas! But how could that be—she loved Raoul as well!
    At length the surgeon came out of Thomas’s chamber. She inquired as to the state of his wound.
    “You are, perhaps, a relative of the gentleman?” the dusky-eyed Spaniard asked her.
    The question vexed her. In her embarrassment, she repeated her inquiry into Thomas’s health.
    “Perhaps madam is the gentleman’s sister?” asked the surgeon, disregarding her question much in the manner she had his.
    She blushed and wrung her lace handkerchief between her hands. The ebony-haired surgeon leaned closer andask in a sultry whisper, “Perhaps you are his wife?”
    Rowena stepped back, and snapped, “Attend to my question. How does your patient do?”
    The surgeon bowed. “That is a very difficult question to be resolved, but alas, it is in my office to discharge ill news—for it is surely ill news that he will die.”
    “Die!” Rowena exclaimed in a faint voice, then seemed to gather her wits. “Die!” she shrieked, rending her handkerchief into minuscule little